Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Chapter Two
Aristocratic Conflict

To be honest, Chaol Westfall, the captain of the royal guard and Anielle's runaway heir, would have come up with many ways to spend his afternoons usefully, and this was not one of them.

Even writing reports began to feel tempting, even though it was normally the most tedious of the duties of a captain. Chaol would have liked to do almost anything other than stand in the lobby of the aristocratic university of the Rifthold and pretend that he did not notice the curious glances of the students and teachers passing by.

Chaol have better to do. He should have been supervising the training of his soldiers, drawing up a watch schedule, or punishing those lazy mens who undoubtedly took advantage of his absence. It was more important than ever to keep the guards in check. Especially after everything that had happened on the Rifthold before and after the witches' departure.

The council, formed by Adralan's aristocracy, was on the verge of disintegration. After the king's failed feasts, in which Rina had delivered her speech that caused chaos, Adralan was closer to an open civil war than it had been in centuries.

The army, which had been slowly gathered and trained to attack Terrasen, now began to dangerously split into two camps; those who supported the king's war and those who opposed attacking a country that was still recovering from its own civil war. The army's behavior reflected the disagreements and fierce quarrels of Adralan's aristocracy, which had been going on for the past week from different sides of the meeting room. On a few occasions, the quarrels had escalated into fist fights, which Chaol had had to intervene with his soldiers.

The situation was getting out of hand, and the King of Adralan, Dorian and Chaol, had their hands full trying to keep the situation under control.

Rina had indeed left behind chaos that others had to take care of. Chaol wondered if Rina even knew what kind of damage she had done. Rina wasn't stupid - she was frighteningly smart for her age - but she was also a child. In a sense, Chaol would always see Rina at the age of two, calmly sucking on a lump of soil and smiling with brown teeth at Dorian and Chaol. The Queen had started screaming when she saw her granddaughter's dirty face. Chaol still didn't know where the little girl had gone. When had Rina become an outspoken and politically reserved young lady? Or the young a witch?

There was another thing Chaol had to fit into the memory of a toddler he had seen grow. Chaol couldn't help but be surprised to learn that Rina wasn't fully human, but a witch?

Where had Dorian found a witch to his bed? And how had he survived it?

Like every young man—just like Chaol—Dorian had been a stupid and even worse womanizer than Hollin when he was young. On the other hand, Hollin and Dorian's separation was the way they treated their mistresses. Dorian had treated the women he was dating well and bought them expensive gifts so that they wouldn't be hurt too much when Dorian lost interest. Hollin, on the other hand, treated his mistresses like toys that he threw aside after use.

Hollin was a spoiled brat who, even after getting married, had not given up his habit of sleeping a around. He had a bunch of bastard children who would not be remembered or thought of because Hollin would never acknowledge them. Hollin and his wife had no children together, which had caused Queen Georgiane to pour out all her unwanted attention on Rina. To her only royal grandchild.

The Queen had always had too much power over Rina's upbringing and education. Dorian had tried, first gently, then less gently, to persuade his mother to leave matters concerning Rina to him. Rina was his daughter after all.

The queen had ignored Dorian's requests and direct orders. She had hired all of Rina's nannies, chambermaids, and tutors, and justified it to Dorian by saying that raising a girl was not part of the prince's duties. Chaol had never seen Dorian so furious. The Queen had ignored her son's feelings or thoughts. The Queen had a picture of the princess in her mind, which she wanted to mold her granddaughter into.

The Queen had realized too late that Rina could not be molded. She had become too much of her father. She was too interested in politics. She was too stubborn. She was too sharp. Rina was too much for the Queen.

Chaoli still had to admit that the queen had been persistent in her attempts to get Rina to behave the way she wanted. At least it was until the moment when she had found out that her grandchild's mother was a witch.

Realizing that Rina's bribery had led nowhere, the queen had changed tactics. The Queen had fired Rina's nanny, Glenns—who had upset Rina because Rina had trusted and loved Glennis like a grandmother the Queen had never been to her—and hired her first tutor. A stern tutor had arrived at the castle, who had taught the children of numerous nobles, and was known for not giving an inch in his lessons, and not yielding to the whims of even the most stubborn child.

He had endured a day before he had resigned and left the glass castle crying. Rina had not liked the teachers hired for her and had made her point clear without sparing her words. The loss of Glennis must have weighed on her, because normally Rina couldn't make the resigning servants cry. The tutor in question was not the first or last staff member that Rina had made to leave with her behavior. Dorian never tried to stop Rina in her efforts to banish the tutors, nannies and chambermaids she hated. He had told his mother, who had begged her son to intervene, that the Queen had wanted to be responsible for Rina's upbringing and education. She would also be responsible for the consequences.

As with the nannies who had claimed that Rina was cursed and left within a few days of arriving, it proved equally difficult to find tutors. Now it was no longer a frighteningly quiet baby with an intense gaze, but an eight-year-old young girl who had decided not to bend to any of the Queen's decisions.

Tutors had come and gone at such a pace that Dorian had finally intervened, much to the relief of the queen. Dorian had talked to his daughter and then informed the Queen that he would find a tutor for Rina himself. In addition, Dorian had demanded that Glennis return to the castle.

The queen had resisted. There had been a dispute that had lasted for several days, but in the end the queen had allowed Glennis to return and Dorian to be responsible for finding a tutor, although the queen insisted that she should be allowed to interview each candidate.

Glennis had already returned that evening. Rina had rushed down the stairs straight into the arms of the old woman, with no regard for bystanders or dignity. Chaol had smiled as he witnessed the reunion. Dorian had smiled too.

A few days later, the tutor chosen by Dorian had arrived at the castle. Thus Chaol had first met the Professor—for she had forbidden anyone to call her Miss or Mrs.—Crowford. The queen had reluctantly agreed to hire her.

Professor Crowford had a dubious reputation, which varied depending on the narrator. Some said she was a genius. Others that she was crazy. Chaol had checked the woman's background himself.

Professor Crowford had been teaching advanced natural science at the aristocratic university of the Rifthold for almost eighteen years. No one was quite sure where she had come from, but according to her papers, she was of Adranian descent, but had studied at Varese University and graduated with top honors. She was a double widow and had a daughter who was about to turn eighteen. Professor Crowford had started teaching at Adralan University when she was three months pregnant, which had caused the university's end-of-life board to turn gray with sheer shock.

As for the professor's reputation... Her teaching methods were interesting. Chaol had witnessed them himself after watching the first lesson of Professor Crowford and Rina.

Instead of introducing herself or immediately starting to rant about everything Rina should learn, the professor had just sat down at the teacher's desk and stared at Rina. Rina had stared back.

Chaol had performed the duties of a guard in several of Rina's lessons. He was used to a certain kind of performance. The teacher started talking. Rina interrupted. An argument ensued. One of them get out. Usually a teacher.

This time it didn't happen.

Rina and Professor Crowford had sat for an hour in complete silence, staring at each other without either saying a word. An hour later, Professor Crowford had taken her bag, got up from the table, bowed to Rina, and said she would be back the next day. She returned. And Rina and she sat in complete silence again for an hour. The same thing happened for a whole week, until finally Rina had opened her mouth and asked: "Who are you?" as Professor Crowford enters the classroom.

The professor had smiled, put her bag down next to the table, grabbed the chalk and started writing on the blackboard the topic of the first lesson."I'm Professor Caroll Crowford. Never Miss Crowford, not Mrs. Crowford. Professor," she had answered in a soft voice and glanced at Rina over her shoulder. "And today we will start with algebra. I guess you have a textbook with you, Rina."

Rina had.

Against all odds, and much to the Queen's chagrin, Rina and Professor Crowford got along well. Rina listened to what the professor had to say, which Rina rarely did. After sitting quietly with Rina for a week, the professor had won Rina's respect.

The queen had been angry. She felt that Caroll Crowford was not a suitable tutor for Rina. She was unmarried, had a child, and was able to provide for herself and her children independently. Chaol had been watching a lesson that the Queen had interrupted by marching in and announcing that she wanted to lighten Miss Crowford's teaching load and hire more tutors for Rina. Of course, Miss Crowford would be allowed to continue as a science tutorr, the Queen had continued, trying to sound generous.

“Professor Crowford,” The professor had corrected without bothering to raise her eyes from the chemistry book they were studying with Rina. “That's perfect." Rina, too, had just shrugged her shoulders when she wasn't much interested in the information about the new tutors. The professor had glanced up only to see the queen turn on her heels without saying goodbye and march out of the classroom after her guard and lady-in-waiting.

The Queen had hoped that Professor Crowford would resign if the Queen reduced her teaching responsibilities. The Queen could not dismiss Professor Crowford because she was far too good at her job and got along with Rina. There was no way the Queen could have explained the dismissal of the professor. To her regret, she had to concede that Professor Caroll Crowford had come to stay. So did Chaol.

Although his reasons for considering the professor to be an unsuitable teacher for Rina were completely different from those of the Queen.

Chaol didn't trust Caroll Crowford and didn't understand why Dorian did. There was something suspicious about the woman. All of Chaol's trained soldier's instincts always warned him in the presence of the professor. There was more to Professor Crowford than meets the eye. She was hiding something.

And the reason for Chaol's suspicions was not only that the professor seemed far too young to have been married twice, to graduate from college and have a child who was almost of age. Chaol was very sure that the professor was lying about her age and background. And if she lied about them, Chaol could only guess what else she was lying about.

Chaol had opened up to Dorian about his suspicions about the professor when Dorian had first asked Chaol to deliver his message to the professor. Dorian had not taken Chaoli's concerns seriously and had only stated that he trusted Professor Crowford.

At times, Chaol wondered if Dorian had ever completely shaken off the stupidity of his youth. He knew that the professor and Dorian had slept together a few times. Was that enough for Dorian to trust someone? Perhaps Chaol was unfair to his friend, but Chaol began to seriously doubt Dorian's taste in women.

Why a witch, especially a cold, beautiful creature like Manon Blackbeak, who could kill a dozen men without without blinking on eye? Why Caroll Crowford, a professor who was considered crazy by half of the students at Rifthold University?

At times, Chaol did not understand Dorian.

Another thing that Chaol could not understand; how could Rina be Manon Blackbeak's daughter?

As Chaol had told Dorian, she wasn't surprised that Rina wasn't fully human. But that she was the daughter of a witch?

Of course, Rina had similarities with witches; beauty, keen senses, possibly immortality and a hunger for victory, which could be interpreted as bloodlust. But Rina didn't resemble witches. She wasn't cold. Se wasn't calculating. Rina was impulsive and didn't think twice about what she was doing. Sometimes she didn't even think about it once.

Rina was already shocked by the death of small animals, whose deaths were not even her fault. Once Rina had cried for a week for a squirrel that Atara had accidentally killed while playing. Chaol couldn't imagine Rina killing even if her survival depended on it.

Rina had morals, a conscience and a heart. The witches Chaoli encountered had none of those qualities.

Chaol had known Rina all her life. He had seen her grow up. Becoming more and more stubborn and sharp-tongued. Chaol loved Rina. And he missed her. Chaol had been worried ever since the witches had left Adralan with Rina, but even his concern was no match for Dorian's tension.

Chaol had tried to talk about Rina's departure with his friend, but Dorian had refused to discuss it. He, like Chaol, didn't want to imagine what witches could do to Rina. What they might have been doing to her at the moment. So far, no one had heard any news from Mount Omega or the witches who had traveled there. If Rina had written, the letter had not yet arrived. Chaol hoped that they would receive the letter, if only so that he and Dorian could sleep peacefully at night.

Dorian's constant tension and attempt to focus on anything but his daughter's absence had led Chaol to stand waiting for Professor Caroll Crowford in the lobby of the aristocratic university of the Rifthold.

Dorian and the professor had been supposed to meet six days ago, but with Adralan's government in chaos and civil war knocking on the door, the meeting had to be postponed.

Chaol knew why Dorian wanted to meet the professor; because of the plan he had been hatching for the past sixteen years.

A coup d'état.

The mere thought made Chaoli feel sick. Dorian walked on thin ice, and trusting the wrong person could be Dorian's fatal. Chaol did not claim to disagree with Dorian. He, too, wanted the old king to be overthrown, and preferably without violence, but that seemed impossible, especially in Adralan's current situation.

Chaol didn't understand how the science professor could help Dorian with his plans for a coup. Professor Crowford had no power outside her classroom.

Chaol sighed and rubbed his forehead. His head ached. Chaol glanced at the large gilded clock that hung over the lobby like a ticking chandelier. Chaol had been waiting for the professor for almost half an hour. That woman had never seen any reason to rush. Chaol crossed his arms on his chest and leaned against the wall behind him, following the stream of people passing by. There were more men than women studying at Rifthold University. It was unfortunate, but the woman who had been educated in Adralan was looked down upon.

Chaol's father used to joke about educated women, saying:“They waste their good years with studies, which will do nothing in the future when they have a husband and children. If they are still fit to be wives by education,” Lord Westfall had chuckled contemptuously. "Educated women are so sharp that they gonna cut themselves."

There was yet another end-of-life lord who should have relinquished power ages ago, but his father was not willing to give his title to Chaol's younger brother. Terrin had married three years ago. Chaol had not attended the wedding, but he had sent a congratulatory letter.

Chaol did his best to avoid Anielle and his father, who still had not given up on the idea of having Chaol leave his postion as captain of the guard and return to Anielle and become Lord Westfall.

Rina, who had been well informed about Chaol's situation, had stated: “Shiti thing. Tell your father that I won't let you go back Anielle. You are my uncle and not his heir.” Rina had been fourteen. Chaol had hugged her.

Chaol had no wife or children of his own. Occasionally, Chaol had mistresses, but he was comfortable a bachelor. He had Rina.

Neither he nor Dorian had shown any interest in making a commitment over the past fifteen years, despite pressure from their parents.

Rina was enough for both of them to be the only permanent female relationship. Or at least that's what Chaol had imagined. Now he had begun to suspect that Dorian's insistence on rejecting marriages was due to a white-haired witch.

Chaol woke up from his thoughts to the present moment as the gilded clock struck. The day's lessons were officially over. The students began to pour out of the classrooms and lecture halls, chatting with each other, like a flock of geese. They streamed into the lobby and out of the doors into the fresh spring air, barely paying attention to the captain of the royal guard how disappearing into the crowd. For Chaoli, it was fine. Enough curious eyes had already been cast on him that day.

Chaol shifted his weight from one foot to the other and glanced towards the large staircase in the university lobby, where the students came down, laughing and comparing their notes. The professor had better show up soon or Chaol would leave without her.

And as if in response to his thought, the crowd of students separated just enough for a lonely figure to have an unobstructed passage down the stairs. Chaol straightened his back as the university's students dodged Professor Crowford, who descended the stairs with the confidence of a queen.

Despite her reputation and the students' instinctive need to dodge her, Professor Crowford was not a very impressive sight.

The professor was short, barely reaching Chaol's shoulder. She had long, dark brown curly hair that she had gathered over her head into a messy bun. Her skin was light brown, her eyes golden brown. She has a curvy body, which several university students and teacher colleagues looked at evaluatively. As usual, Professor Crowford wore a dark blue dress with a simple cut and a black long-skirted overcoat. Gold-rimmed glasses gleamed on her nose. Chaol was pretty sure that the professor didn't need glasses to see, but only wore them to get a certain impression of a university professor to be taken seriously.

Professor Crowford descended the stairs to the lobby, scanned around until he noticed Chaol lurking in the corner, and walked towards him briskly, shoving a thick pile of papers into her leather bag. The students swerved out of her way. The professor walked through the crowd effortlessly, occasionally shouting reminders to a few unlucky students that in some other environment might have been mistaken for potential death threats.

"Don't forget your essay for next week, Arthington. You don't want to know what's going to happen if you forget it again."

"Maddron, don't even imagine skipping your study group this time or lowering your grades will be your last concern."

"Miss Vanderwood, you'd better be on time for my next class. I will not be responsible for the consequences if you try to cut class again. Your parents pay for education, so respect their sacrifice."

Professor Crowford commanded her students, as Chaol commanded hi soldiers, although Chaol did not threaten his own subordinates as openly as the professor did her students. And the professor was smiling all the time.

"Is that necessary, Crowford?" Chaol asked instead of greeting as Professor Crowford stopped in front of him. The professor sighed and took off her glasses. "If only you knew what these aristocracy kids were like if they weren't threatened, Westfall." The professor tucked her glasses into her bag and looked up at Chaol. Professor Crowford was not particularly beautiful. At least not by traditional standards. She had round cheekbones, a sharp chin and thick eyebrows. The features alone were very mundane, but combined... There was something very memorable about the professor's face.

"I hope you didn't have to wait long," the professor said, looking at Chaoli from head to toe. Chaoli felt uncomfortable. Professor Crowford had always had an influence on him like that. She seemed to see through him and know all his secrets just by looking at him.

Chaol grunted and stepped a step away from the wall. "Half an hour," he said, and – because he had been brought up properly and was a gentleman despite not liking Caroll Crowford – he offered his arm. "Professor?"

Professor Crowford put her hand on Chaol's arm and let Chaol escort her to the door. When she saw the carriage parked in front of the university, she laughed softly. "Are you going to arrest me, Captain Westfall?"

Chaol snorted. "I would, Professor Crowford," he said as he helped her into the carriage. The professor grinned viciously at him as she sat down on the padded bench. Chaol climbed into the carriage after her and sat down opposite her.

The driver smacked his lips and the carriage started moving.

"So," Professor Crowford said after a long and charged silence during which she and Chaol had focused mostly on glaring at each other. "Would you like to explain to me a gossip I recently heard about our princess?"

::::::

Dorian Havilliard, the Crown Prince of Adralan, Rina's father, and that deranged young man who had lured the Blackbeak heir into his bed almost sixteen years ago, rubbed his forehead in an attempt to contain his mounting headache.

Dorian had been suffering from chronic headaches for a week. He had felt it in his temples ever since the day his little girl went with the witches to Mount Omgea, and it had not been helped by the constant and escalating quarrels of the Council. Adralan was on the verge of open civil war; a war they couldn't afford. Dorian did’t agreed with his father on many things, but when it came to keeping Adralan united, they were in agreement. The civil war could tear Adralan apart if the nobles of the council were to go against each other.

In a sense, Dorian could have allowed Adralan's aristocracy to fight to their heart's content, and he might even incite them to do so, if the price for the civil war were not paid by the common people of Adralan: merchants, seamstresses, hunters, farmers, café keepers, ordinary men and women... children.

The aristocracy were allowed to fight as much as they wanted, but they were not allowed to involve the people of Adralan in their quarrels. Dorian would take care of that. The people of Adralan deserved better than war.

Adrala should save from itself. And that task was on Dorian's shoulders. It had been on his shoulders longer than he would even like to think. Dorian knew that he should have acted earlier. He should have prevented his father from going this far in his military operations. When witches learned to ride wyverns, the army would march to Terrasen - if Adralan didn't fall into civil war before that. Who knew on whose side the witches would fight in that war or if they would fight at all.

Dorian really should have acted earlier, overthrown his father and become king and put an end to all the madness, but... but Rina had been so little.

Dorian had become a father at a young age, and instead of his kingdom, he had put his daughter first. He had put Rina first in everything. Dorian had allowed his father to continue his crazy war plans and focused on raising his daughter. His and Manon's daughter. A daughter in whose face he saw Manon every day. Dorian's priorities had changed overnight. Rina had always come first, and only then the kingdom.

But now Rina was gone. She was with her mother. Dorian did not doubt for a moment that Manon would protect Rina. For Manon, Rina's safety had always been the most important thing. Even though neither she nor Dorian were fully successful in protecting their daughter as well as they should have been. Dorian knew Manon would keep Rina safe.

Still, it didn't stop Dorian from waking up in the middle of the night covered in a cold sweat after having a nightmare Blackbeaks matron who had killed Manon and had dug Rina's heart out of her chest. Dorian had read a lot about witches since he had first met Manon, and Manon had told many stories that hadn't bothered Dorian at the time, but now revived his dreams.

The irontoothed witches tore the hearts of the crochans witches from their chests and ate them. This sight bothered Dorian night after night, but instead of a faceless Crochan witch, the Blackbeak High witch had sunk her nails into Rina's chest.

Dorian did his best to concentrate on the council meetings during the day - which was not difficult, as the meetings were more and more like cage fights - and everything else that kept his mind from going off the rails. If Dorian paused too long, his mind conjured up the most grotesque imagination of everything that might be going on at that moment in the deep passes of Mount Omega. He waited impatiently for news from Omega; from the guard, from Rina, from Manon - from anyone. Just that Dorian would know that the witches and with them Rina would have reached their destination safely and in one piece.

Dorian put his hands down on his desk, shook the horror and worry from his mind, and focused on the woman sitting in front of him.

Professor Caroll Crowford didn't look at Dorian. She had a silent staring contest with Chaol, who stood behind Dorian on guard. They had been glaring at each other for almost two minutes, and neither showed any signs of retreating.

Chaol and Caroll had never particularly liked each other. Dorian was aware of what Chaol thought of Carrol, and Caroll... well, Caroll didn't particularly like anyone, so Chaol shouldn't be too offended by Caroll's glare. But the tension between them felt even more hostile than usual today. Usually, the two were content to ignore each other in the corridor and greet each other with forced polite nods.

Now Dorian sensed the discord in the air and didn't know what to do about it. He had always gotten along well with Caroll. So well, in fact, that they had slept together a few times. It was a mutually beneficial unspoken agreement. They satisfied each other's needs, and that made the people who persecuted them with marriages withdraw for a while. Even though they hadn't slept more than twice. But they were happy to let the court and the university board believe otherwise.

Caroll was not looking for a relationship, and neither was Dorian. They both had a job and a daughter to take care of, and there was no room for any serious relationship outside of it.

Dorian was willing to go so far as to call Caroll a friend. At least Caroll allowed Dorian to call him Caroll, and not Professor Crowford, as she demanded of everyone else. Besides, Dorian had to call Caroll something. She was not his mistress, nor was she just his daughter's teacher. After sharing a bed with someone, the relationship can hardly be called professional anymore.

So Caroll was a friend. A friend that Dorian trusted despite Chaoli's suspicions.

Dorian was determined to trust Carroll and confide in her of his intentions. And he was glad he had done so. Caroll had access to places where Doriani could not, and with her help, Dorian had begun to see the realistic possibilities of his coup. They were not very promising in the current situation.

Caroll had crossed her legs and arms. Her lips had pressed into an angry line, and she continued to glower Chaol. Chaol had also crossed his arms and responded to Caroll's glare.

Dorian felt that he had been caught in the crossfire on a battlefield where he did not even know what the battle was about. His headache began to feel like a painful pressure in his temples. It was as if a blacksmith had hammered his skull with a forge hammer.

"Listen," Dorian said, tired of sitting as a wall between two people who clearly hated each other. "Could you please stop acting like two five-year-olds, one of whom has hit the other on the head with a shovel on the sandbox?"

Caroll and Chaol looked at Dorian, visibly irritated by his involvement in the fight between them. Now they are glaring at him.

Dorian sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "If you want to fight," he said, glancing at his two friends, "go out and do it. The guards' training rings should be free."

Caroll raised her eyebrows. Chaol snorted. "Do you even know how to handle a sword, Professor Crowford?" Chaol asked sarcastically, leaning against the wall behind Dorian.

Dorian leaned his head on his hand when Caroll hissed, "Is that sexism or personal, Captain Westfall?" Chaol responded to Caroll's gaze with a smug look. "I know a lot of women know how to use weapons. I recently met witches. But I don't think you've ever held a sword in your hand, Professor Crowford."

Caroll seemed ready to leap over the table and strangle Chaolin for this insult. Before Dorian became the referee of the fight, he cleared his throat and asked sharply, "What happened between the two of you?"

Caroll and Chaol had known each other for almost eight years. During those eight years, they had not behaved so hostile towards each other, although they had had a few arguments. And of course, there was the unfortunate incident with the pointer and Chaoi's head after one of the most heated argument.

With that in mind, Dorian wouldn't have made fun of Caroll for her weapon handling skills. In anger, Caroll made even a wooden porridge spoon look like a potential killing weapon.

Caroll glared at Chaol. Chaol glared back. If the gaze could kill, Dorian would have been the only person in the room who breathed.

"Speaking of witches," Caroll said slowly, her eyes fixed on Chaol, "I tried on the carriage ride to ask for confirmation of the gossip about Rina. Captain Westfall was a little upset about it." Caroll grimaced at Chaol. Dorian guess it was an attempt at a smile. Only an iron-toothed witch with her iron teeth bare would have looked more threatening. Chaol responded to the grimace with a chilly look before turning to say to Dorian in a more moderate voice, "That is none of the Professor's business. I made sure she understood it."

Caroll snorted.

Dorian sighed in frustration. His headache seemed to get worse. If he didn't have to talk to Caroll and Chaol as soon as possible, he would have thrown them both out of his office.

"I had a reason to invite you here today, Caroll," Dorian said, catching Chaol and Caroll's attention. Dorian glanced at Chaoli and said, "Sit down. I want you to hear this too."

Chaol seemed to prefer to sit on hot coals rather than next to Caroll, but he pleased Dorian and sit down. He went around the table and collapsed into another chair in front of Dorian's desk. In her own chair, Caroll moved as far away from Chaol as she could.

The two of them were like elementary school children who didn't want to have anything to do with the opposite sex.

Dorian felt like an old father watching his young offspring fight over something stupid. Rina sometimes seemed much more rational and mature than some of the adults Dorian knew. Pain ached in Dorian's heart, and he quickly suppressed the thought. Just the thought of Rina evoked feelings of longing and worry.

Dorian looked at Caroll and Chaol sitting in front of him and made his decision. He would tell them everything.

"Rina wrote a letter to Queen Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitetrhone," Dorian said.

The effect was immediate. Caroll and Chaol forgot about their quarrel in an instant. Caroll's mouth fell open, Chaol jumped up and grunted: “What!" so loud that it must have been heard all the way to Ellywe. Caroll pulled Chaoli back into his chair and hissed, "Shout a little louder. I don't think you were heard at Wendlyn yet." Chaol pulled his arm free from Caroll's grip and glanced at her angrily, but Caroll didn't care. She looked at Dorian with a serious look. “I don't ask this lightly," she said, crossing her fingers in her lap, "but has your potential witch daughter lost her mind?"

Chaol growled. "Rina is not a witch..." he began. "Wholly," Dorian finished the sentence, glancing at Chaol, telling him to be silent with his gaze.

For a moment, the only sound in Dorian's office was the ticking of a clock hanging on the wall.

Caroll stared at Dorian, then looked at Chaol and his petrified expression, and then at Dorian again. "So Rina Havilliard is a witch," she finally said slowly, as if palpate the thought.

Caroll put her hands in her hair and began to open her bun in thought. Curls fell to her shoulders as she let her hair down. Caroll placed a long silver hairpin on Dorian's desk and shook her dark hair on her back. "Oh, yes," she said, and nodded after thinking for a moment. "It makes sense."

Then Caroll frowned and raised her fingers and pointed at Dorian. "Wait a minute, what do you mean by that Rina isn't wholly witch?"

Chaol crossed his arms and pursed his lips and looked away. He didn't like the fact that Dorian was obviously going to tell Caroll the truth. Dorian glanced at Chaol, decided to take care of him later, and said to the professor: “Rina is not a full-blooded witch." Dorian did not see fit to explain any further, and Caroll did not ask any further questions.

The professor was silent for a while. Her golden-brown eyes seemed to focus nowhere as she went through everything she had heard. It was as if Caroll had done a very challenging addition task in her head. Finally, she opened her mouth, "Oh," he repeated, shaking her head. “It is... rare," the latter she seemed to say more to herself than to anyone else.

Chaol looked at Dorian with one eyebrow raised. Dorian shrugged his shoulders and focused his eyes on the professor. "Do you know anything about it?" he asked, not waiting for an affirmative answer.

Dorian knew almost nothing about it, and at least he had been raising half-witches for fifteen years. None of the books on witches found in Adralan's numerous libraries even mentioned half-blood witches or witches who bleed red blood.

And Dorian had been looking. He had searched for any information that could help his better understand his daughter's genome, even though Rina had grown up more like a human than a witch. Nevertheless, Dorian had wanted to know more about Manon's kind.

All the texts and books that Dorian had read told the same thing; The descendants of witches were almost without exception girls and were born full-blooded witches. Nowhere was there any mention of witch children who would have inherited more than just outward traits from their father. Rina was either the first of her kind, or the witches didn't talk about half-bloods in the same way that faes didn't talk about half-faes.

Dorian had searched for information for years and came to the unfortunate conclusion that people's knowledge of witches, especially irontoothed witches, was scarce and often contradictory. One book that had had a chapter on witches – the chapter had been only two pages long – was outright said that witches, especially iron-toothed witches, were reluctant to share information about their kind or their habits. All the information collected had been obtained in connection with torture. Dorian had been disgusted to read the mention of how human had gathered information from the witches who had been captured.

Humans thought witches were monsters, but sometimes Dorian didn't think humans were much better. The chapter had ended with the words: the best way to get information about witches is to ask the witches themselves.

The information had not helped Dorian in his search. Rather, it had only discouraged him. The only witch he would have wanted to talk to and who could have answered his questions was gone.

But Manon had not known much more about half-blood witches than Dorian did.

If the irontoothed witches had information about similar mixtures of witch and another species as Rina, they kept the information to themselves. And hid the details even from their fellow witches.

Caroll seemed to be absorbed in her thoughts. She was playing with a chain around her neck with three rings hung from it.

One silver ring forged in the shape of a leafy vine and adorned with one elegant pink diamond. One large golden ring with a large sapphire on it, like the heart of a dark sea, surrounded by a ring of smaller sapphire shards. And then there was the third ring. It wasn't gold or silver. Dorian had once held the strange jewel in his hand and touched the third ring, which was plain and simple compared to the other two.

It was made of iron that had been forged into a simple ring. No diamond. No decorative patterns. Only iron. Dorian had seen Caroll sink into her thoughts so many times that he had noticed Caroll's touching shape of the iron ring when she thinking.

Caroll had said that she had been married twice. The first two rings were from her marriages. The third ring... Caroll had said that he had promised someone that she would consider the matter. Dorian hadn't asked, and Caroll hadn't told him.

Dorian crossed his fingers and watched Caroll's wandering gaze, waiting for her to wake up back to reality. For a long moment, the only sound in the whole room was the wind rattling the windows and the faint ticking of the clock. Finally, Chaol sighed in frustration and pushed Caroll in the side with his elbow. "Professor Crowford," he said, "are you still with us?"

Caroll blinked her golden brown eyes in confusion at first, and then she frowned and turned to stare at Chaol. "Did you just push me in the side, Captain Westfall?" she asked, sounding shocked and offended. “It was low even for you, young man."

Dorian barely managed to hold back his giggles as a blush of shame rose on Chaol's face. At least he managed to look apologetic. Chaol turned his gaze to his lap, tried trestrain his blush, before looking at Caroll again. “My deepest apologies, Professor Crowford," he said, sounding as if he was even referring to his words. "It was ill-advised."

Caroll size Chaol up with a thoughtful look on her face as she contemplated the apology offered. Chaol looked like a schoolboy who had been caught gluing chewing gum under his desk. His face was still red. Dorian wouldn't stop reminding Chaol from this moment for a long time.

Eventually, Caroll shrugged her shoulders, swung her hair, and ignored Chaol and his apology. It was Chaol's turn to look offened.

"To answer your question," Caroll said to Dorian, tapping the surface of the desk with her fingernails. "I can't say I know much about half-blood witches."

Dorian nodded. Caroll knew a lot, but witches were hardly her specialty. Caroll tilted her head and looked at Dorian. "A letter," she said, returning the conversation to where it had begun. Chaol straightened his back in his chair and turned his attention to Dorian as well. “You said that Rina wrote to the queen of Terrasen. Did she answer?" Caroll asked, observing Dorian's reaction.

Chaol blinked his eyes several times and looked at Dorian with an incredulous look. "Did the Queen of Terrasen reply to Rina?” He asked, leaning his hand on the table.

Instead of answering, Dorian pulled a crumpled envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket. He had carried it with him for the past eight days everywhere he went. He couldn't leave the letter lying around. Dorian did not risk it ending up in the wrong hands or in the hands of his father.

Dorian placed it on the table in front of Caroll and Chaoli, who stared at the cream-colored envelope as if it were a bomb about to explode. “She replied," Caroll said simply. "Rina is crazy," Chaol sounded almost admiring, despite all his concern.

Caroll and Chaol reached for the letter at the same time. Dorian was once again able to witness how two adults pushed each other, like immature children, when they tried to get their hands on the letter first. Caroll was faster. She grabbed the envelope and pulled the letter out of it while Chaoli was still groping for nothing.

Caroll unfolded the sheet of paper that had been doubled and began to read. Chaol leaned closer to Caroll so that he could read the letter over the professor's shoulder himself.

Dorian knew what the letter said. He had read it countless times; every night before going to bed. Every night at least twice. He remembered it word for word. Dorian had come to know Terrasen's queen's handwriting almost as well as his own.

Dear Rina Havilliard, of the Blackbeak clan.

I cannot claim to want war, and I am inclined to negotiate if your king agrees to it, but from your letter I now know for sure that the king of Adralan will not agree to talk to us peacefully. That is why I ask you, Rina, to persuade your father, Prince Dorian Havilliard, to come north to the Oakwald forest to meet me and my court. I propose a peaceful meeting where we could discuss the situation of our countries on neutral ground on the border of our countries. The Prince is free to bring any companions he wishes, but I sincerely ask you to leave weapons out of the negotiations. I do not want any debate we may have to lead to bloodshed. Of course, I hope that you, young Rina, will come with your father. I would very much like to see you. And I haven't met a witch or a princess from another kingdom for a while who takes a conscious risk by contacting the queen of an enemy country. As the convener of this meeting, I have chosen the meeting place. I will make sure that you are guided to your destination. I will leave it to you to decide the time of the meeting.

I hope to see you soon.

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius Whitethrone, Queen of Terrasen, Fae Queen of the West, heir to the Firebringer of Mala, Aelin of the Wild Fire, Adralan's worst nightmare.

The queen of Terrasen had used almost two lines for her signature, listing all her titles and nicknames. When Dorian had first seen the signature of Aelin Galathynius, he had wondered whether he should also add a list of all the nicknames given to him at the end of his letters. There weren't many of them, though, so maybe it wouldn't work. Still, he found himself jealous of Terrasen's queen's signature, which was almost like a resume.

Chaol had reached the end of the letter before Caroll and was staring at the Queen's signature. "I think she could have made it longer if she wanted to," Dorian said. Chaol nodded thoughtfully. “Do you think she signs all his official documents like that?" he asked, looking up at Dorian. Suddenly, Dorian was no longer so jealous of Aelin's impressive signature. If he listed all his nicknames and titles at the bottom of every official paper, he was already suffering from a bad wrist injury. Dorian's hand began to ache just by writing his own name on twenty different reports. And all he had to do was write Prince Dorian Havilliard.

The Queen of Terrasen had three official surnames, although her other nicknames are excluded. Writing Dorian Havilliard over and over again began to feel almost merciful.

Caroll had stared at the letter. Her eyes were glazed. She slowly raised her eyes, but did not seem to be able to concentrate. “Blackbeak?” Caroll asked, placing the letter she was holding on the desk. "Is Rina's birth mother Blackbeak?"

Dorian met Caroll's gaze and couldn't quite interpret her expression. "Yes," he said. "I don't know if the name Manon Blackbeak says anything to you."

A sound came out of Caroll's mouth that could escape from the balloon when it deflated. "You had a witchling with a Blackbeaks heir?” Caroll asked, staring at Dorian as if trying to rethink her opion about him. "And she gave up his daughter." The last one was more of a statement than a question.

Dorian nodded, not knowing what else to do. Caroll shook her head. "Witches don't just give away their daughters," she said to herself. "And half-blood." Caroll frowned at Dorian. "How are you still alive. Irontoothed witches, especially Blackbeaks, don't have the habit of leaving their screw alive."

Dorian was confused. He hadn't expected Caroll to know even so much about witches. In general, people focused on avoiding them, not gathering information. But on the other hand, Caroll was... unusual. How did Dorian know what she knew.

"It's... complicated," Dorian contented himself with saying. Chaol chuckled merrily, "Indeed," she muttered. Caroll nodded thoughtfully. "Undoubtedly, especially if that old... if the Blackbeaks matron found out..." Caroll's mind seemed to run faster than words, and she fell silent. Dorian didn't quite understand what was going on in Caroll's mind. If Dorian hadn't known better, he could have claimed that Caroll was upset.

"I guess you knew the witches were on the Rifthold, Professor?" Chaol asked, pulling Caroll out of the swamp of her thoughts.Caroll gave him an irritable look. "Of course I knew! I didn't leave my house for a whole week while they were here," she snorted. "I don't live in a barrel, captain. And it seems to me that the word that the king invited the irontoothed witches to his city would have reached the bottom of the barrel." Caroll shuddered. "And I thought he couldn't think of anything crazier after wyverns."

Caroll sighed and shook her head. She looked at Dorian and again seemed to be doing complex calculations in her mind. "Rina is no longer in the Rifhtold," she said, not asking. Rina's departure was not public information to the citizens of Adralan. Dorian's father had not wanted the news to spread. Only the aristocracy knew that Rina had left with the witches.

Dorian nodded again. "She went with her mother to Mount Omega," Dorian suppressed his worries and continued, "It's been eight days now."

Caroll bit her lower lip and played with the rings hanging around her neck, looking nervous. “Rina forgot to turn in her homework," she muttered finally. Caroll blinked her eyes, corrected her posture and laid her hands in her lap, her expression controlled again. Dorian couldn't help but wonder at Caroll's reaction. Did she know more than she said after all?

"Did Rina have time to answer Terrasen's queen?" Caroll's question woke Dorian from his thoughts. Dorian looked at the letter that had been placed on the table. "No," he said, resting his chin on his crossed fingers.

Rina had given the letter to Dorian and urged him to do as he thought best. "Are you gonna answer?” Chaol asked, crossing his muscular arms on his chest. Dorian nodded. "I sent a response last night," he said. Chaol's expression tightened. Caroll raised her eyebrows. "Did you send a reply yesterday?" Chaol repeated. "Didn't it occur to you to tell me what you're doing?"

Dorian tried to ignore the hurt in Chaol's expression. Dorian stood up and walked to the window of his study. "I'll tell you now," he said, without looking at the professor or his oldest and most trusted friend. "I want you to know both with me." He turned towards the duo to see them exchange a suspicious look. The suspicion was not directly directed at Dorian. Most of it was directed at each other.

Chaol didn't look satisfied. Caroll's expression was closed. The professor looked at Dorian and for a moment Dorian wanted to read her minds like Rina. He would have liked to know what was going on behind Caroll's golden brown eyes. "When is the meeting?" Caroll asked. Her hand rose again towards the rings hanging from the chain, but she quickly lowered it back into her lap, as if unwilling to reveal her feelings.

Dorian folded his arms and leaned against the window. "In three weeks. I have informed the Queen of the time of the meeting, as she requested."

Caroll nodded her head. "Did you also tell me who you're going to take with you?" she asked. Chaol didn't say anything. He just stared at Dorian. Dorian shook his head slowly. "I didn't see the need for it." He looked at Caroll. "I hope you'll come with us." Despite Chaol's angry expression, Dorian knew that Chaol would come along, even if he didn't like it. Chaol would rather chop off his own hand than let Dorian go to the meeting alone.

Caroll looked pensive. "Why do you want me to come with you, Dorian?" she asked, clenching her hands tightly together. "I'm a teacher."

Dorian put his hands behind his back. "Three looks more powerful than two," he said. Caroll squinted her eyes. She didn't look offended, just thoughtful.

"I understand," Carrol said and stood up, straightening the hem of her blue dress. She picked up her silver hairpin from Dorian's desk and slipped it into the leather bag she was carrying.

"I'll have to think about it," she continued, bowing quickly to Dorian. Then she gave Chaol a look before continuing, "I'll announce my decision soon. I need to find out how many days I can be away from work. And I need to ensure the safety of Doon in the meantime.” She smiled, turned, and left Doria's office without saying goodbye. Caroll never greeted or said goodbye. She always used to get straight to the point or leave the situation without much ado.

For a moment after the woman left the room and the closing door clicked still echoed in the air, neither Dorian nor Chaol said anything.

Finally, Chaol grunt and collapsed against the back of his chair. When he spoke, he sounded exhausted and frustrated. “You could have told me earlier, Dorian. From the letter. About Rina...”

The ghost of the old conversation flew across the room like an arrow. Dorian looked out the window to avoid his friend's gaze.

Just a few days ago, green buds had started to grow on the branches of the dead-looking trees. "You would have tried to stop me," Dorian said. Chaol snorted. The chair scratched against the floor as he stood up and stepped beside Dorian. “Of course I would. Aelin Galathynius is officially Adralan's enemy. And apparently she thinks also she is," Chaol said, referring to the Queen's signature.

It was Dorian's turn to sigh. "I have to act, Chaol. I do what I see best for Adralan. And meeting Queen Aelin can help calm the tension between Terrasen and Adralan."

Although the entire voltage was mostly entirely Adralan's fault.

Chaol brought his hand to the hilt of his sword and took a firmer stance from the ground. "How can Caroll Crowford help you in your endeavors? She's just a teacher. She said it herself."

Dorian leaned against the window and met his friend's doubtful gaze. "Professor Crowford is intelligent and she has access to information that I would not be able to access without suspicion. She is a great help."

Chaol gritted his teeth. Dorian lifted his chin challengingly. "I don't trust her," Chaol said. Dorian nodded tiredly. "You've told me that many times." He stepped past his friend and sat back down at his desk. "And as before, I assure you that I trust her."

"She's hiding something," Chaol argue, leaning against Dorian's desk to catch his eye. "I don't think she's who she claims to be. We can't trust her."

Dorian pulled out the first report from the pile of papers and examined it superficially. "Who among us doesn't hide something, Chaol?"

Chaol growled. "You know what I mean, Dorian. I don't think she told the truth about herself."

Dorian was sick and tired of this conversation. He looked at Chaoli and said in the calmest voice he could: “Chaol, Caroll hasn't let me down and she would have had a fucking of a lot of opportunities to do so. Tell me who she is, if she is not who she says she is."

Chaol didn't say anything. He turned his face away to hide his expression from Dorian. "I have a works to do," Chaol said suddenly, straightening his back. He glanced at the letter from Queen of Terrasen lying on the table and his mouth tightened.

Before leaving Dorian's office, he turned to Dorian and said, "For your sake, I hope you know what you're doing. Meeting the Queen and trusting Professor Crowford."

Dorian stared at the report in front of him. "So do I," he said. Dorian heard Chaol let out a long sigh and stepped out the door. The door slammed shut behind him.

Dorian grabbed his pencil and slipped his signature at the bottom of the report. It was still very simple and much shorter than Queen Aelin's signature.

Dorian really wished he knew what he was doing. Otherwise, his actions could only make Adralan's situation worse.

"So do I," he said to the empty room and began to go through the high pile of reports that had formed on his desk over the past few days, when he hadn't had time to delve into them properly.

Dorian really hoped that what he was doing was right.

::::::

Interference would have consequences. It always had.

Caroll knew that very well. She owed nothing to the rulers of Adralan or Terrasen. And still she was determined to help the prince. At the time, it had felt like a good solution.

On the other hand, you could hardly expect any woman to make rational decisions after she had slept with Dorian Havilliard.

Caroll had done so twice.

The court assumed otherwise—they thought Caroll was Dorian's mistress or something like that—but most of the evenings when they had sneaked into Dorian's rooms alone during their eight years of acquaintanceship, they had mostly been talking.

First, about something everyday: Rina's teaching, the books they reads, their daughters. They had never discussed anything personal.

And then Dorian had asked Carolli to accompany her to one of the Queen's balls to get rid of her mother's matchmaking plans. Caroll had agreed. The university's senior professors had been and still were of the opinion that having an unmarried woman as a professor was a scandal. Many of them had tried to approach him and Caroll had rejected them all. Mainly because she didn't want a relationship. Secondly, because they were all slimy old men who believed they were entitled to the personal favors of a young-looking professor.

They had gone to the party together. They had accepted the court's strange glances and murmur. They had danced. They had been drinking. And ended up in Dorian's bed at the end of the evening.

It was a nice night, even though Carol had had more skilled lovers. On the other hand, you could hardly expect miracles in bed from anyone who had half pass out. Carollia had not regretted sleeping with Dorian, although she refused to sleep with him for the third time after the second time they had both been sober and tried to see if the sexual relationship between them would work.

Caroll had enjoyed the nights she had spent with Dorian, but she had to admit that after having sex sober with the prince, it had felt like a retrospective... strange. As if Caroll had had sex with her cousin or some other close relative without realizing it.

So having sex had stopped. Still, Caroll occasionally appeared at public events next to Dorian, making sure that the servants saw her leave the prince's rooms in the wee hours.

The court could believe what it wanted in peace. Caroll had nothing to be ashamed of.

No longer retreating to discuss far from the prying ears of the courtiers, Caroll and Dorian did not exchange book recommendations or complain about their daughters' latest whims. Their conversations had taken on a more political tone. Caroll could not claim to care about politics, but she understood politics.

Caroll had started to get interfernce again. She had promised herself that she would no longer get involved in politics and power struggles. They weren't her battles. Still, she helped Dorian. She had options. She had been on every occasion when she had decided to interfere in the course of history. People had died because of her. They had been saved because of her.

But then, in taking part in the course of events, Caroll had only been responsible for herself. Now she had Belladonna. Even though Belladonna was almost an adult and a taller than her, she would still be Caroll's baby. Caroll would do anything to protect her daughter.

Because of Belladonna, Caroll had built a life and a home for herself on the Rifthold. Caroll liked her current life.And Belladonna deserved a place to grow up and call home. Carll had never had a home, no place to call her own or to return to. In that sense, she was like everyone else - more or less - her kind. She, too, felt in her bones the call of lost homeland.

The carriage stopped with a jolt and Caroll woke up from her thoughts back to the present. She looked around in confused before realizing that the prince's driver had brought her to her house on the other side of town. The same driver had made that journey many times when she took or brought Caroll to and from the glass castle.

Caroll had been so absorbed in her thoughts that she hadn't even registered the familiar journey home.

Caroll grabbed her bag and pushed the door of the carriage open, without bothering to wait for the driver's help. The driver was used to Caroll self-imposed. Caroll jumped onto the side walk and waved after the carriage as the driver started the journey back to the castle. The driver waved back. They had always gotten along well.

Caroll pushed open her yard gate and stepped into her front yard. The hinges of the gate let out a soft hiss as she closed it behind her. The hinges had recently been greased. Caroll wouldn't have been bothered by a slight creak, but Belladonna couldn't stand the screeching of the hinges. She greased the hinges of all the doors in their house once every two weeks so that they wouldn't have time to creak. Belladonna's hearing had always been sensitive. Even more sensitive than Caroll's.

Caroll walked along the paved driveway, digging out her house keys from her bag. She had just received the keys and climbed two steps to the front door when she stopped.

The front door was open.

Caroll stared at the crack between the frame and the door and frowned. Belladonna had said in the morning that she would go to the library with her friends after school. She shouldn't be home yet.

Caroll was still waiting for the day when her overly meticulous and honest daughter would stumble home drunk after going to the pub with her friends, instead of studying at the library in the afternoon. Caroll encouraged Belladonna to be a little reckless from sometimes. She probably would have made the hinges of her doors get drunk and break the rules more easily than her own child. Belladonna had come to her aunt.

So if Belladonna had changed her plans and come home, there was no way she would have left the front door open. She was too careful and precise for that. Caroll slowly pushed her keys back into her bag and opened her mouth to taste the air. There were no foreign smells in the wind. Only in her garden was the aroma of plants, nightshade and foxglove.

Caroll squeezed the strap of her bag tighter and slowly pushed the door open. It didn't make a sound, as expected. The hallway behind it was dark. Caroll stepped forward with her lips slighty open, ready to defend herself at a moment's notice. She walked across the hall with soft predatory steps, palpate the air around her.

Nothing felt different. Perhaps, Caroll pondered, she was just overreacting. Maybe she had forgotten to lock the door of her house when she left for work in the morning. That happened sometimes. At times, Caroll was so absorbed in her thoughts that she even walked into the wrong lecture hall at the university.

But now it wasn't about that...

Caroll noticed movement in the corner of his eye and dodged a moment before the knife flying through the air sank into the back of her head. There was a hit as the deadly sharp blade sank into the wall. Caroll spun around and lifted her bag for protection as the next long-bladed knife was about to sink into her flesh.

The person holding the knife pulled her hand behind her and pulled the knife with her when she noticed that instead of the flesh, she had got the knife stuck in a leather bag.

Caroll used the bag as a weapon - for she had no better one - and struck it in her attacker's face with full force. The attacker stumbled backwards, but unfortunately recovered quickly and attacked Caroll again.

Caroll dodged again, grabbed the attacker by the arm and used the attacker's own momentum against her to slam the attacker against the wall. There was a crack of broken bone as her face slammed into a wall and a metallic stench of blood spread into the air. Caroll rushed towards the knife that had sunk into the wall, but did not have time to take two steps when hand was squeezed around her wrist.

Caroll swearing in her mind, spun around and swung her bag towards the attacker's head.

There was a knock from inside the bag as her numerous folders hit each other with the force of the blow. The attacker let go with a grunted, but attacked again almost immediately.

Hopefully, Caroll's students' test answers won't suffer from this confrontation. Caroll had at least twenty exams to correct that same evening, and a hole in the middle of the paper would not help her interpret them.

Caroll—both to protect her students' experiments and to free both of her hands—let go of her bag and let it slam to the floor. She grabbed her attacker's knife hand before the attacker could try to stab Caroll again.

Taking advantage of the attacker's unstable posture and her own weight, Caroll struggled her attacker and knocked her to the floor. The knife slipped out of the attacker's hand and the attacker let out a long litany of swear words. Caroll grinned smugly, but didn't have time to celebrate her victory when knee hitting her in the stomach. Air escaped Caroll's lungs and she had to gasp for breath. The attacker took advantage of Caroll's errant attention and swirled them around.

Now Caroll was lying on her back on the floor and the attacker was on top of her chest, squeezing Caroll's wrists to the floor. Drops of blue blood fell on Caroll's face.

"You're rusty, Blackbeak."

Caroll barely managed to fill her lungs with air and focus her gaze on the figure in the red cloak bent over her. Crochan grinned at her. "Still, you're the one of the two of us who bleeds," Caroll gasped and coughed dryly. She responded to crochan's grin. "Nice to see you again, Bronwen Venora."

Bronwen chuckled and released her grip on Caroll's wrists and let her sit up. Caroll pushed Bronwen off her head and took a deep breath. "Not a bad ambush, but if you were coming to visit, you could have just knocked."

Caroll stood up, rubbing her side. She looked at her guest, who had picked up her knife from the floor and was now trying to detach one from the wall it had sunk into. Caroll should get a painting to cover the hole. Bronwen thrust the knives into the sheath and snorted, "When visiting an irontoothed witch, you should always be on your guard."

Caroll crossed her arms and raised her eyebrows to crochan. "As far as I remember, you tried to kill me, not the other way around."

Bronwen shrugged. "Old habits are deeply rooted." Caroll sighed. Indeed. She couldn't blame the crochans for their distrust, they had every right to do so. Still, Caroll was a harmless pacifist compared to them. She had never raised a weapon to kill a crochan witch. Not that any crochan would have believed it.

"Will you have some tea?" Caroll asked, slipping one of her dark curls behind her ear. She anticipated that this would be a long conversation. The Crochans didn't just visit her. Bronwen took off her cloak and waved it over her arm. She seemed to have been waiting for a question. “I'd like tea," she said, smiling sharply. "Without belladonna, please." It was an old joke.

Caroll snorted and turned towards her kitchen. "You crochans have always been picky." Bronwen laughed.

Caroll picked up her bags from the ground and peeked inside to check the condition of her folders and her students' test answers.

Only one folder had a hole. Clearly, Bronwen wasn't seriously trying to kill Caroll this time. Otherwise, Caroll might well be dead at the moment. She had gone into battle unarmed. She guess she should start carrying a knife hidden under her skirt again. For too long, Caroll had lived too comfortably in a false sense of security.

At times, Caroll really missed her iron nails and the protection they bring.